


Ghosts

by Morie_mordant



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comfort, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Gen, honevra doesn't know how to talk to children, kid!Allura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 11:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12275943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morie_mordant/pseuds/Morie_mordant
Summary: Allura can't fall asleep in a strangers' palace.





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Призраки](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/327636) by Morie. 



A skill to fall asleep anywhere, in any position, and with any noise in the background was simply a part of being an Altean alchemist. As early as during the student days, it was necessary to learn how to use any available moment to the fullest and get as much sleep as possible in between shifts, endure the never-ending partying behind the cardboard wall, and ignore the roommate who quite vocally revised her formulas for a test next week. Having moved to her own place, a modest one-room apartment, with barely enough space for her and Kova, she would expect for things to become easier, but in reality, she did not spend much time there, due to constant trips and expeditions. After spending three nights without sleep, investigating loose subsurface rocks in the north, Honevra dozed off without any concerns for the deafening roar of the engine and did not stir even in particularly dashing turns and bumps. Sometimes her reports were slightly crimpled, with stains from the energy drinks and dried spots of drool, as she slept like a log right on the desk.

Strangely enough, it seemed like Zarkon was finding this habit of her entertaining. She began to wake up in a comfortable bed instead, without any recollection of how she got there and actually took off her shoes and glasses. Once as she had not yet completely fallen asleep, she felt through the slumber, how carefully she was embraced and lifted from her workplace. Zarkon himself was a soldier, and a paranoiac hence could rest soundly only beside her.

Was it the work stress, the all-consuming responsibilities of the royal representative, age, something else – yet lately more often than not Honevra was suffering from insomnia. She was no fool, she was aware that the generals did not approve of their great lord marrying a commoner. They wanted to get rid of her.  
It seemed like paladins liked her, especially so after Zarkon, drunk with joy, had been singing the folk songs at the top of his lungs at their wedding, just to please her. Except for Alfor. No, of course, as the embodiment of diplomacy, he was nothing but friendly, however, Honevra caught his tense unreadable gaze more than once or twice. Nevertheless, he was always cordial and friendly, smothering her with kisses in greetings, and while inviting Zarkon to visit him, he never forgot to extend his invitation to her separately.

That did not lessen her neurosis, maybe even fueling it further. Therefore, picking up the soft thud of the door being opened, Honevra instantly jumped off the bed, clutching a dagger in her hands. She did not go to bed without it under her pillow, and it was a betrothal gift from Zarkon. Galra attached huge importance to struggle and strength of body and mind, and Zarkon made sure that if needed, she would be able to hold her own.

In the hallway, in a distant lilac light from the corridor, stood the princess. Barefoot, in a nightgown, with loose hair – a wavy mane flowing below her waist.

“What happened?” Honevra pushed the blanket back, prepared to act fast at the slightest hint of danger.

Friends had been staying with them for a week already, but that evening they had received a distress signal, a cry for help, and her husband, along with Alfor, set off in their lions into the night. If someone dared to try and take advantage of their absence to cause any harm to the little princess, they would regret it. Oh, Honevra would take care of that.

The princess bit her lip and shifted from one foot to another.

“Are there any ghosts?” she muttered under her breath.

Honevra’s expression softened a bit, and she dropped the dagger, pretending that she was fluffing the pillow. Frankly, she was pretty annoyed to end up as a designated babysitter, and she could not find the right way to approach the princess. On the one hand, there was a person of royal blood in front of her, and Galra were pretty serious about status and hierarchy, but on the other, here and now Honevra was a queen-consort herself. Besides, the princess was only a child.

Honevra got reminiscent of her early days on Daibazaal. It was difficult to get used to the high ceilings and pointed structures, to deep dark colors and military austerity, borderline asceticism.

After a reserved nod, the princess trotted to the bed and ducked under the blanket, building a cocoon. Despite the fact that the bed was wide and had just enough room for five, she settled right at her side, wheezing tranquilly. Watching her fiddling from the corner of her eye, Honevra grabbed the watch from the nightstand.

“You come to my room and wake me up at 4 am, to cuddle?”

Well, it was unlikely that she would get any more sleep tonight.

“Your father will return before you know it. You won’t even have time to miss him.” She forced out awkwardly, lost as to how to comfort her.

Whatever said, it would be lies, obviously, as the little princess missed her father dearly already, otherwise she would not have come running to the only Altean in the whole palace. Even if Honevra did not feel like one of them anymore.

“When I grow up, I’ll pilot the Red Lion,” she quietly confessed.  
“If I am allowed to mention, it takes a lot of courage to pilot the Lion. How can it be someone who’s afraid of ghosts?” teased Honevra.  
“I’ll be like father. I’ll defend the universe. Together with the future prince. Or the princess.”

Honevra glanced at her, but the effect of her raised eyebrow was lost on the naiveté.

“Father told me a secret, that you’ll have a babe.”  
“A son,” she said with certainty, “the prince”.

Allura squawked with delight.

“Can I?”

Still a little dumbfounded and amused, Honevra rose on the bed, leaning on the headboard. Her condition was not yet evident, and she had not told anyone, not even her husband, but Alfor, perhaps, felt a lump of new energy beneath her heart.

A warm tiny palm pressed against her abdomen. Allura closed her eyes, her nose wrinkled in concentration. The marks on her cheekbones were gleaming a baby pink. Honevra could not remember when was the last time her own marks glowed. It haunted her, a creeping feeling that each day they were getting darker, sharper. Physical appearance was not of any significance for her, but it was something more and it worried her. As a matter of principle, she did not shapeshift to blend into Galra, she was not going to try to hide her heritage, nor be embarrassed by it.  
The dim marks, however, was yet another step away from Altea.

When Zarkon peeked into her chambers, in his smoke-smeared armor, with a tattered cloak, with a tired face, covered in scratches and little burns – but safe and sound – he found his wife abstractedly combing Allura’s hair with her fingers. The girl and the cat, a tangle of legs and tail and fur, snuffled faintly in her shoulder.

His face beamed, and he wore an oafish grin as he crept up to them, tiptoeing so as not to disturb the sleeping beauty. Leaving a soft kiss on the top of her head, he sank down beside her, using the nightstand as the backrest, and stretched his lengthy legs out.

Soon Alfor appeared in the doorway too, out of breath in a search for his daughter. Their eyes met, and Honevra put a finger to her lips, urging him to stay quiet. Zarkon gave out a big snore in agreement and slipped off the nightstand onto the edge of the bed.

Alfor squinted and laughed silently.

.

After listening to the report on how exactly they have managed to capture one of the intruders, a well-known enemy of the Empire, Haggar orders to throw the girl into the prison cell until further directions.


End file.
